Fantasies Notwithstanding
by angeliza8i8
Summary: Ib's memories of her ninth Birthday in that art museum are hazy, but there is one thing she remembers clearly... a painting of a sleeping man surrounded by blue rose petals, with eyes that she wanted to open more badly then anything. IbxGarry oneshot.


**I am so sorry I haven't been updating my stories in so long…**

**...I got a job!^^**

**I have the next chapters for both "Loveloid" and "Mew should smile more!" written on paper, I just have to type them up, so please bare with me.**

**...and while you wait, here's an Ib one-shot!**

…**...**

On my ninth birthday, my parents took me to an art museum.

My memories of the artwork are hazy, but I remember one of them with perfect clarity:

Forgotten Portrait.

I remember staring at it, unable to move.

It seemed so familiar, the man, sleeping, with his lavender hair falling in his eyes, his dark blue coat around him, surrounded by pure blue flower petals…

...I remember how I clutched at the velvet rope separating me from the portrait until my knuckles went white. I remember waiting there, anxiously, for his blue eyes to open...wondering how I knew his eyes were blue…

I stood there, waiting, until my parents came to get me, and my younger sister, Mary, dragged me away from the portrait, giggling about the "Huuuuugggee birthday cake!" mom and dad had gotten me.

I remember looking over my shoulder, still staring at the painting, until I could no longer see it.

The years went by, and it became somewhat of a family tradition to go to that museum on my birthday, just to see that painting. Three years later, the gallery was closed, and the painting auctioned off.

I decided I wanted to become an artist.

Another year later, my sketchbooks were full of a man's face. The man smiling, the man reaching out his hand, the man laughing, always surrounded by blue petals, always with his eyes closed...the same man from the portrait.

Every time a drawing was finished, I'd put it on my wall, and wait for his eyes to open.

His eyes that I somehow knew where blue, on a face I didn't recognize but that felt so familiar.

Another year, my art had improved.

I could now draw the man's face in exact detail. I could never bring myself to name any of the drawings, even when my teacher asked, because the perfect name for the man was always there, on the tip of my tongue, but it escaped me every time. I spent all my free time in my bedroom, surrounded by drawings, trying to somehow yank out what I couldn't seem to remember…

...what I so badly needed to remember.

Another year, and I was in high school.

I began entering my art in competitions. Mary complained constantly that I didn't spend any time with her anymore, and when I kept ignoring her, went into my room, and burned all my drawings to ash.

I have never been so mad in my life.

I have never cried so hard in my life, either.

Mary apologized, her apology was hard to understand, her cheek was already swollen from where I'd slapped her, but the deed had been done.

I got a lock on my door for my birthday.

Mary was no longer allowed in my room.

Yet another year, and my parents surprised me on my birthday;

The Forgotten Portrait sat on the edge of my bed.

Most girls got cars, or expensive dresses when they turned sixteen, but I could not be happier. My parents said Mary helped them look.

She still wasn't allowed in my room...but I began to play with her more. She is, after all, my sister.

When I don't play with Mary, I draw, and paint.

The man's blue eyes, in my art, at least, seemed to be opening a little. I'm not sure why, but it just felt that way.

Another year, and the portrait is hanging on my wall, directly across from my bed.

For my birthday, I go out with Mary to a cute little shop she found. They had a strange pastry called a "macaroon" there. For some reason I can't fathom, I bought some with my birthday money, and put them on a plate in front of the painting.

It seemed right, somehow.

In my drawings and paintings, the man's eyes have definitely opened a little, you can see some of the bright blue shining through his long eyelashes.

I've won every art competition I've entered, but only gotten second, or third place.

Another year, it's my last year of high school art competitions.

For my final entree, I began sketching a picture for the painting, it's the man again, I sketched his face last…

...his eyes were finally open.

Filled with some strange energy, I painted it with feverish perfection, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever made.

For the first time, I won first place at an art competition.

When I got home, I put the medal, and the winning painting beside the Forgotten Portrait...strange, the portrait seemed different somehow. His blue eyes were open, and he was smiling. He's waving...was he always waving? My family said he always has been, when I asked, they seem confused.

The man in the painting seems to be saying;

"I'll see you soon."

...and for some reason, it makes me deliriously happy.

Another year, I'm 19 now.

My victories in art competition got me a scholarship to an art college...but they'd run out of rooms in the female dorms. So, I got placed in the co-ed dorms, much to my father's and Mary's dismay.

My mother had to remind them both that I'm old enough to make my own decisions.

On the first day of college, I met my roommate.

He's so tall, I had to bend my neck into an awkward angle to see his face.

He has lavender hair, and bright blue eyes…

...He looks familiar, somehow.

The Forgotten Portrait hangs on our dorm room wall, as empty as it has been on the first day I saw it. I wonder why I was so obsessed with an empty painting.

My roommate said it's because "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," or something...I don't really care about what he said…

...What I do remember, with perfect clarity, is that he said his name is Garry…

...and I think that's the perfect name.

I think, I…

...I think I'm in love…

...but somehow, it feels like I've been in love for a really, really long time.

…**..**

**Don't you all just love happy endings?**


End file.
